


Good Riddance

by UnderNightsWatch



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderNightsWatch/pseuds/UnderNightsWatch
Summary: Sebastian is sick of servitude, so he seeks a way to excape his contract to Ciel.





	Good Riddance

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, this was written for a friends birthday, so if you're reading this, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D And second, I'm not sure if I managed to write everyone in character, so please don't hate me O_o
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"Sebastian!" The voice of his young master calls out, echoing down the long darkly lit halls, to the sitting room where he was contemplating just ending it all. His voice equally as loud and obnoxious as it was back when he was human. He sighs.

What does the little brat want now?

Sebastian Michaelis slowly made his way up the endless stairs of the mansion, dragging his heels as he goes, taking the time to study the paintings and art he had already long since memorized over the centuries. Why did he even bother recreating the house in the first place? When the young prat had died and became a demon thanks to his soulless body, it became the logical course of action to leave that world, and retreat to the realm where supernatural entities could roam free. That way no one would eventually notice we did not grow old and die like the mortals. Though, it would be nice if that was still the case. But since they were creatures of immortality and live forever, it would appear he was stuck with the brat until the end of time.

_Damn it Claude, Alois_ , you had one job, the demon tiredly thought, before finally arriving at his master's chambers. As was proper etiquette, he gently tapped his gloved knuckles against the frame before entering. After all, he was nothing if not polite. Even to spoiled twits.

"What took you so long?" Said twit whines, leaning against his chair, and resting his boots upon the desk. Sending several papers flying. Yet another mess he would be tasked with.

"Apologies, young master. I was otherwise occupied. How may I be of service?" He rolled his eye, still content to wear the eyepatch even though there was no longer any danger of anyone seeing the glowing symbol that bound them together. "Whatever. My throat has become quite dry, I request some tea to soothe it." He orders, now folding his arms behind his back. "Of course, sir. What flavour did you have in mind? We have-" Sebastian began, but Ciel interrupted him without pause. "Earl grey will be fine. You may go," he dismissed him with a flick of his hand. The demons anger flared. "Yes, my lord." He gritted his teeth, and turned away after a chaste bow.

The young master was being even more of an annoyance this evening, and the low whispers of demons circling around his mind did not help a bit. He would have been surprised that Ciel did not pick up the demonic conversations, if it was not a normal occurrence for young demons. When he himself was first created from the shadows and human hatred, and released upon the earth, he had gone half a millennia without being able to discern clear words from the mindless mumblings of the lowly creatures. So, with a hand to his temple, the butler made his way back downstairs to put on the kettle. It served as an easy task to do while he concentrated on what was causing a stir in the realm.

_'.. Have you heard? The gun has been found..'_ One voice slithered through his mind, almost like they were in the very same room with him.

_'.. Who? The weapon has been lost to us for centuries..'_

_'.. Those meddling brothers..'_

Sebastian smiled to himself as the kettle began to scream,

_'all this commotion for a simple weapon? Have you lot nothing better to do?'_ A demon cackled.

_'Says the all powerful 'Sebastian', who spends his days shackled to the little British git.'_

The sly jab easily sent him over the edge, and he broke the decorative cup he was pouring the tea into. Crushing it to dust between his fingers. Scalding liquid running down his unfeeling hands. Staining the pristine white gloves he wore.

_'I do not need your reminders, Astaroth.'_ Sebastian snarled, _'I'm well aware of my unfortunate circumstances.'_ That only made them laugh more.

_'If you take issue with your 'masters' treatment of you, then rectify the situation.'_ The demon suggested.

_'Oh,' Sebastian muttered, quite unconvinced. 'You have an idea do you? Well then, let's hear it.'_

_'Not I, little brother. I'm like you, I only listen to the realm.'_

_'If that is all you have to say, what use do I have for you?'_ Astaroth only chuckled now, a huge divergence from his earlier unsympathetic behavior.

_'Now, if you only heeded my words, then you would realize I've already told you everything you need to know. But then again, you never were the smart one were you?'_

_'Do get to the point.'_ Sebastian begged, his patience wearing thin almost to the point of transparency.

_'Very well, I'll leave you with this: The Colt has been found.'_

Any shards of glass left over tumbled out of his fingers and on to the floor. At the mention of the ancient, deadly weapon, several hundred demons filled the realm with their nonsensical ramblings, all ranging in various emotions. Shock, excitement, worry, boredom, hesitance. Fear was the most apparent.

_'Are, are you certain?'_

The entirety of the realm all gave a resounding _'YES!'_

Sebastian smirked at their eagerness. The thought that his freedom could soon be in his grasp, filled him up with utter glee. A normal demon would normally be inclined to shudder towards such a pure sensation, but he basked in it. Any normal weapon could kill a host, but the demon could just jump to the next defenceless body they set their sights on. The Colt was different, it killed the host _and_ the demon.

_'So, where can one find such a weapon?'_ He mused, innocently. Astaroth answered for him.

_'The Colt is in the possession of two mortal brothers. They go by Sam and Dean._ '

Sebastian knew it was not his imagination when he picked up on the revulsion in his brethren's voice, but it left him confused. Yes, it was rather surprising that one of the deadliest weapons known to demon kind was in the hands of two seemingly unworthy humans. Stranger things had happened though, so what made these brothers so special?

Then it clicked. Sebastian threw his head back, his first real laugh in centuries spilling from his mouth. Oh, this was just perfect.

_'Astaroth, brother, these boys wouldn't happen to be the 'Winchesters', would they?'_

_'The very same.'_ He growled back.

_'Then poor Azazel must be shaking in his britches, when he finds out his precious Samuel holds the key to his demise.'_

_'Believe me, he is not thrilled.'_

_'I would assume so. Well, thank you, for this most interesting opportunity. I owe you.'_ And he meant it. If this were normal circumstances, Sebastian would be loathed to be indebted to a demon from the realm, but if this information ended up freeing him from the confines of his prison and contract holder, then it would be no trouble or burden offering anything the demon wished.

_'I know you do, and I will look forward to reaping my reward. Though, a word of caution. Do not underestimate the Winchester boys. There's a reason they're still alive, even after our most valiant efforts.'_

_''Duly noted.'_

_'Oh, and Sebastian? Change the name. It is not befitting of someone of your stature and rank.'_

The butler laughed in agreement, and tuned out the realm when he felt Astaroth's presence fade. His mind was quiet once more, an he had a few moments peace to think things over. For centuries he had forcibly been under the rule of a dim-witted, petulant child. The long, long years had dragged by with no reprieve. No light at the end of the tunnel, if there even is one for a demon. But now, he's found his solution. His silver lining. With minimal effort, he could venture to the human world, take the Colt into his possession, and vanquish his master from existence. The thought was so tantalizing he had to restrain himself from transporting there that moment. He had to plan this perfectly. After all, there were only so many bullets available, and while he had no doubts about his aim, the butler knew the brat would not go down easily. In all the time he'd known Ciel, he could at least admit that in the beginning he was full of surprises. It was not everyday a child sells his own soul for revenge. He almost felt nostalgia for the old days when he tolerated his master, but those days had long since past. Still, to go as far as killing the brat, surely he was overreacting. Surely, there must be another way-

''Sebastian!' The demon let out a low, irritated sigh.

Never mind.

What had he just been thinking? Killing the little beast would be the most fun he'd had in centuries! Hell, in eons if he was feeling generous. With a snicker, he disappeared from the kitchen, Ciel's voice dissolving into silence.

~

Sam Winchester has had better days. Of course, a lot of things were preferable over having the life beaten out of you by a crazed demon. He'd trade this for a vengeful ghost any day. Try as he might, he had long since lost the fight between himself and the demon that had mercilessly overpowered him. He possessed little strength left to even properly defend himself against his attacker and their onslaught of violence that was most likely fueled by endless anger, and centuries of practice in beating their enemies to a pulp. He had held out hope his father or Dean would be able to fend off the demon, but a desperate glance to what was left of his family revealed he was on his own. Dean, who had been the one to come to his aid, was swiftly backhanded with the force of a truck, and crashed into the Impala, while dad, who was only barely conscious during the rescue, was now slumped against the apartment building. Motionless.

So, with the knowledge he had to figure this out on his own, Sam felt the gravity of his situation weigh on him heavier. Within mere minuets after the attack had started, his struggles weakened almost completely, and he was about to pass out, when a sound louder than any he had ever heard before made everyone freeze. Without warning, and simultaneously with the noise, the man 's attack suddenly came to a halt. Squinting his eyes, Sam could just see through his own blood and bruising that the demon was looking behind him, one final look of horror preserved on his face. A small trail of blood running from the bullet hole in his temple. The wound still smoking, as well as the barrel of the gun Dean was holding, Sam realized, when he peaked over his shoulder.

The Colt.

Still in shock, and very disoriented, he pushed the corpse off of him, and with Dean's support, he pulled himself off the ground. Leaning heavily on his brother, they were making their way over to their father, when more company arrived.

"Well, that was quite the scene you two have made here." A low, smooth voice remarked from behind them. A slight British accent mingling with his words. Dean tensed, stopping in his tracks, while Sam, sensing another demonic presence, swiftly disarmed his brother and swung around.

The man in front of him was... Not what he expected. About Sam's own height, the man was dressed impeccably in a stiff looking black suit, with obsidian black hair cut in a strange old-fashioned style. Just by a quick glance over, nothing particularly insidious or supernatural stood out to Sam, but if one looked closely, they would notice the faint black aura surrounding the man. Confirming what he really was.

"Demon." Sam whispered to his brother, and Dean hastily faced the man, a steadying arm around his brother's shoulders. The demon studied the brothers intensely, his red eyes taking in their stance, wounds, and possibly their very souls. Sam hoped the demon wouldn't notice how his knees shook from the exhaustion and adrenalin from fighting off Hell's minions, but if it even cared, the demon gave no indication he did. In fact, the demon no longer paid them any heed. Their attention was solely on the gun in Sam's hand. Recognition sparked in the flat red of their eyes, and he gave an unnerving smile to the brothers.

"The Winchester siblings, I presume?" He inquired, taking a slow step foreword. Immediately, Sam adjusted his aim on the gun. If the demon made any moves he didn't like, he would send a bullet straight into its head. He was hesitant at first, they had precious little ammunition as it was, but something about this demon was off. _Way off_. Something that would warrant the loss of a bullet. He felt powerful. More than powerful even, like he could make the great Azazel cower in fear. For that reason alone, he kept a close watch on the man.

"No more moves." Sam threatened as Dean went about asking how the demon knew their names.

"Who wants to know?" His brother requested.

"No one. I assure you I was not sent by anyone wishing to do you harm or ill will, I merely wish to gain an audience with you two." The demon coolly replied, somewhat dodging the question.

"Fine. How do you know who we are then?"

"I can read your souls, but I thought it rude to blindly assume." He waved a gloved hand absentmindedly, as though he was not as hung up on the matter as it seemed.

"Well, you know what they say about assuming." Dean muttered. Keeping up with his act of mouthing off to demons, when really Sam knew he was just as affected by the mans power as he was.

"Quite." The man commented, "anyways, where are my manners? My name, is Sebastian Michaelis. Pleased to make your acquaintances." He then gave a little bow, and Sam couldn't decided if he was serious or mocking them.

"Charmed." Dean drawled.

"I'm sure." The demon grinned once more.

"Cut the crap!" Sam yelled without thinking, clenching his jaw tighter by the second. He did not trust this demon as far as he could probably throw him, and watching the causal interaction between his brother and the demon only strained his nerves further. "What do you want from us?"

The man in black, to his ever shrinking credit, did not walk on eggshells or spend precious time talking circles around them about his 'master plan'. He cut straight to the point.

"I do hope I am not being overly inconvenient, but you boys have something I desperately need. And I'm here to, well, take it off your hands as it were."

Dean and Sam, puzzled by the demons odd request, glanced around where they stood, but nothing of worth jumped out to them. At least, nothing that the man could not obtain by his own means.

That's when it hit him.

The gun seemed heavier in Sam's hand as the realization dawned on him, and it did not take Dean long to reach the same conclusion. Shoving Sam behind himself, Dean took a step foreword to create more of a barrier between the demon, who was still holding the weapon, and his little brother.

" No way in HELL." Dean firmly declared, and Sam watched as he withdrew his own gun from the pocket inside his torn jacket, and pointed it right at the man in black. "I have no idea why you want the Colt, but if you are crazy enough to try and get it, you are going to have to go through me and the bullet I'm gonna put between your eyes." The elder Winchester warned. Despite this, the demon laughed, clapping his gloved hands carelessly as he moved closer to Dean. Shortening the distance between them.

"Get back!" Sam shouted, he and his brother taking a firmer aim with their guns, but even that did not deter the demon.

"How entertaining!" He exclaimed jovially. "I have not seen such a display since the circus. Truly remarkable, I'd say, but the act ends here I'm afraid." He snapped his fingers, and with the sound, came the possessed firefighter, the man and woman, and at least a dozen newcomers. All with the same dark eyes and blank expressions. Within seconds they surrounded Sam and Dean, totally under the control of the demon as they advanced menacingly towards the brothers. In all his years, Sam had not come across a demon with this much power. To effortlessly bend these people to his control was beyond anything they could hope to beat presently. But that didn't mean he would not try. After all, letting the Colt fall into the wrong hands could be catastrophic.

"You think this is what it'll take to get the Colt?" Dean taunted, chuckling darkly. "It's going to take a lot more than this to get your hands on the gun, you smarmy bastard."

In response, the crowd actually began to back off, much to Sam's relief. Dean even let out a quiet breath. For the moment, they were out of immediate harms way. But they still had the demon to deal with, who remained unfazed as ever.

"I'm well aware you boys are a more formidable enemy than most, so be assured, I thought this out well before hand. It also helps you Winchesters appear to be loyal to fault."

"... So, what now? Are you finally going to face us by yourself, and stop hiding behind these lowlife demons? Because I'm getting tired of your pacifistic act."

"Oh good heavens, no." Sebastian almost looked appalled at the idea. "I'm on a time sensitive errand..." He pulled out an antique golden pocket watch, and grimaced when he saw the hour. "Unfortunately, I will not have the honor to see what all the fuss is about over you siblings, so for your sake and your father's, I will make this quick. Decide which route you wish to take."

At the mention of John Winchester, both brothers stared on in horror as their father, still unconscious, was lifted off the ground by his neck. The sharp nails of the possessed woman holding him dug into skin, and conjured thin trails of blood. The rest of the demons that had advanced on them also began moving over to the senior Winchester, violent intentions in their eyes.

New panic welling up inside of him, Sam lowered his arm, taking his aim off the man. He knew what Sebastian was doing. It was a trade. Their fathers life for the Colt. Sam scoffed angrily. The demon referred to it as a choice, when in actuality it was anything but. The decision was made for him the second it was presented. They were never in danger, it was their father the demon had intended to threaten. A dirty trick that worked as well as Sebastian had probably hoped. Though his stomach churned over surrendering the most powerful weapon in their possession to a demon, and his father would surely try to kill him when he woke up, he knew what he had to do. What was the right thing to do.

"Wait!" He cried, hating the grin of satisfaction on Sebastian's face. "Ok. You win. If you let our father go, you can have the Colt." Taking a breath, he allowed the weapon to slip from his fingertips, and listened to it hit the ground beside him. The dull thud echoing in his ears. Just as he made a move to kick the gun over to the demon, Dean blocked his path, his boot trapping the weapon in place. The Colt wasn't going anywhere. Surprised, Sam's eyes snapped to his brothers, and he was met with Dean's furious expression.

Dean reached out and gripped his brothers arm in an instant of anger and shock. What had he been thinking? Handing over the Colt of all things to this high level demon? Was Sam out of his mind?! If the situation were not so grave, he would have shaken the stupid out of him.

"What do you think you are doing?" He hissed incredulously, ignoring the way Sam winced at the growing pain in his arm. "What part of you deemed this a good idea?"

His younger brother only glared at him, the leftover blood from his fight with the possessed man only making him appear more menacing in his conviction.

"I think I am saving our fathers life. A stupid gun isn't worth letting him die."

Dean could barely believe what he was hearing. "A stupid... A stupid gun? Do you remember why we went through all this trouble to get that damned gun in the first place?" He seethed, "to avenge the monster who killed our mother." He let out an angry breath. "You may not care about that, but me and dad do. Do you think he would stand by and let you throw away years of work for this?"

"He's not going to be doing much of anything if we don't surrender the gun, Dean!" Sam argued back. He knew why Dean was reluctant to give up the Colt, and a part of him, larger than he wanted to admit, sided with his brother. Getting revenge for the mother he had never gotten the chance to know was important, but sacrificing another parent in order to pull it off was unacceptable in his eyes. Although Sam could see how much this tortured Dean, his older brother knew Sam was right. Raising his foot off the Colt, he kicked it as hard as he could over to Sebastian. Admitting defeat in his own stubborn way.

The demon was so pleased with the outcome he almost cackled. "See? That was not so hard, was it?"

Dean and Sam both glared at him, promises of revenge in their eyes.

"You got what you wanted, now tell that bitch to let our father go." Dean ordered.

"Done. It was a pleasure, Winchesters. " With another snap of his fingers, the possessed woman let their father go. Dropping him to the pavement like week old trash. The sight set Sam's teeth on edge. Once that was over, the other demons took their leave, spreading to the wind like the diseases they were. They would be lucky if they could track them all down in time; before any real damage could be inflicted upon the unsuspecting citizens in the area. For now though, the brothers had more pressing concerns, like the remaining demon languidly brushing bits of dust and gravel off the Colt like he had all the time in the world.

Dean cracked his knuckles menacingly. Sebastian laughed.

"So, what now?" The older brother muttered. "You gonna follow the black-eyed mouth-breathers, or just stand there admiring your prize? Of course, if this is your subtle way of ringing the bell, I'm ready for round two if you think you can take me."

"Lower the gloves, Winchester. I was merely affirming I had all the necessary pieces before departing. There's no need to inflict further pain on yourself."

With a swift turn towards the cracked brick wall behind him, Sam watched on unnerved as the demon laid his free hand on the building. For a moment, nothing happened. The brothers swapped confused looks before turning back to Sebastian. Their eyes widening considerably when they noticed what the demon was doing. What had once been a regular wall in serious need of a fixer-upper, was now, for lack of better description, a portal. Taken aback, Sam Winchester did his best to get a grasp on what he was seeing. It was as it someone had cut a hole into the solid brick, but instead of seeing into the building, it was a swirling jet black before them. Sam had seen a lot of strange, downright impossible things in his life that would have driven most people insane by now, but this was in the top five. Guess that goes to show that no matter how hard he could try, whether that be going back to school to finish his undergraduate program in law, settling down or having family of his own, he would never really be normal. The only comfort he got from the situation was that Dean was also stunned into silence, and it took a lot for that to happen to his brother.

The demon took an easy step into the portal, but before he completely disappeared, cast a glance back to the defeated siblings. "Vale, Wintoniensis Samuel. Bonus fortuna in visione." He imparted, before the wall sealed up behind him, and the Winchester brothers were left staring at cracked brick. Back to square one.

"Son of a bitch."

~

He fiddled with the gun, now back at the Phantomhive Mansion entrance. He had to admit, a part of him was still a tad shocked he was able to successfully acquire the Colt in the end, and that he vastly underestimated the Winchesters ability to place their family before all else. No one died either which was rare in dealings with him, but in the end, they preformed spectacularly in their roles. Albeit, reluctantly.

Like he had said before, humans really were difficult creatures.

As he ascended the stair case one last time, he studied the weapon he now carried almost weightlessly in his hands. For a hunters fable, the gun was really quite beautiful, even if it's sole purpose was to kill his kind and more. Strangely, maybe that was what gave the Colt it's particular charm. Made and crafted by the infamous Samuel Colt in 1835, it was like no gun he had ever seen. Each bullet was meticulously engraved with numbers, and the barrel was adorned with ornate leaf etchings. Though, for all its beauty, he couldn't help the small upturn of his lips when he noticed the pentagram carved into the handle, and the Latin insignia, 'fear no evil' on the other side. Clearly, Samuel had spared no effort in constructing the weapon, even if it was a little overkill in the design. He only cared if the gun would indeed give him the power to complete the deed. It would do Sebastian no good if it was just a pretty little thing to admire. Still, he had to put his best effort foreword if he was to be rid of Ciel.

Before the butler realized, he was standing outside of his masters quarters. By now in the human world, it would be the next morning since time worked mysteriously in the Realm, but that did not deter the candles from flickering lazily behind their glass holders. Forever burning away the wicks they danced on to further the gloomy mood that had taken hold of the Phantomhive manor.

He was loathed to admit it, but when the servants had still been alive, servitude had certainly been more eventful. All the more reason to carry out the plan, in his humble opinion.

Without knocking this time, he pushed open the door and took a step inside. The room was absent of light. Even if the windows and curtains were strewn wide, there was no moon to illuminate the dark; not that he needed to see to move around. Unfortunately, that was true now of Ciel as well. So it was no trouble at all to recognize it was Ciel's shape that stood not a few feet from him, his back to the former butler, and facing towards his desk. Cluttered as usual. Nothing new there, but the difference this time was he would not offer to clean it up. He would not be cleaning anything up ever again. He had tried out servitude, and like most things, it had dulled with time and soured his thoughts of it. Maybe things would not have been so terrible if his master had not been utterly insufferable, but he supposed he would never know.

"I called for you, you know." Said Ciel, flicking a fountain pen across the smooth surface of the wood, being careful to keep his voice monotonous as possible. It was all a ruse though, and not a very good one at that. Just by our close proximity, I could feel his anger over my betrayal, and what made things even better was he _knew_ that I knew.

"I'm sorry my lord, it seems as though time has run away with me."

He laughs at this. "Apparently so... Hmm, what to do with a servant that can't come when his master commands? Should this arrogant dog be re-trained, or put down like the mutt they are?" "I am sorry to say so, but the time for following orders has come to a close, young master." Sebastian removed the safety of the gun, and heard the bullet click into place within the barrel. The sound lovelier than any he has ever heard, and would likely hear again.

Ciel turned around, a growl now present in his voice. "I should have known this day would come. You can never really trust a lowly demon; all they care about is chaos and plunging knives into unsuspecting backs."

Without warning, Ciel lunged at him, his small body dissolved into thick shadows before a large black dog emerged from them. His demon form.

He hardly had time to fire off a shot before long canines sharp as needle points sunk through his shoulder, reaching and tearing bone. However, Sebastian did not feel any pain; he was too focused on his failure. Damn! He missed, but he vowed it would not happen again.

Ramming his injured shoulder backwards into Ciel's mouth, he managed to free himself from the iron grip of his masters jaw, as well as break some teeth upon impact. While the boy was distracted by his own agony, Sebastian closed the distance to lock his fingers around the animals thick neck, and hoist him into the air. Cutting off even more air.

Ciel may be strong, but he was stronger.

Still, that did not stop the beast from fighting back. Razor claws began their vicious attack on any skin they could reach. His arms, torso, even his face had not been spared. tired of this, he slammed the dog against the wall, harshly knocking his head off the hard wood behind the decorative paper. By now, lack of oxygen was getting to be too much for him, and hands replaced paws in an effort to pry Sebastian's own grip off his neck. However futile it was. Blood dripped from both of them. Sebastian's wounds oozed with the metallic essence, and Ciel's hair was covered in it from the collision with the wall. If he looked closely, he could see a thin line trickling from his mouth as well.

"..Wha..What ArE you... wAiting fOr?... A comand to l-let mE go?..." His master gasped with extreme effort, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head. "..You're n-not... Getting.. one..."

If possible, Sebastian's hand tightened further around the brats throat. Any harder, and it would snap. He could do it, if he wanted to, but he went through all that trouble to get that gun, and it would be a shame if it went to waste. Still, he wanted to relish the feeling of his hand squeezing the life from his master, and committed the image to a memory he would treasure forever. He noticed something...Off, though. In the confrontation, he supposed, his glove had been ripped open, revealing smooth, clear skin. The contract was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

The shock only lasted a second, then the elation came.

A long, almost maniacal cackle unleashed itself from deep within the demon, filling the room with its absurdity and disbelief. He was free. Really, and absolutely free.

He had to be certain though. Tearing the eyepatch from Ciel's face, the murderess glowing red eyes contained no sign of the centuries old contact either. New laughter tumbled out, and his grasp lessened just enough for Ciel to choke out "what's so... Funny?"

He did not realize? Sebastian thought it rather obvious, but he felt no irritation in delivering the news.

"What's so funny, you ask?" He leaned in closer, pressing the barrel of the Colt directly against Ciel's temple. "The contract is void. Null. Gone. I no longer have to do as you command, young master. Do you know what that means?"

Sputtering, the brat tried to plead for his life, but Sebastian heard none of it. The horror in his eyes though, was a delicious sight.

"It means, that I am no longer bound to your will. It was fun, Ciel, while it lasted. How unfortunate it is that I never got to acquire your soul, but I've no desire for cheap things."

He clicked the bullet into place a second time.

"farewell, young master." Ciel's body crackled and lit up as if he had been struck by lightening when Sebastian pulled the trigger, then everything went dark again.

Only now feeling the strain in his arm, he let the lifeless body fall heavily to the ground.

Good riddance.

Running a blood soaked hand through his hair, he glanced over his disheveled state, disgusted with what he saw, and willed himself to look more... Presentable. His elegant suit and torn skin knitted themselves back together in the blink of an eye, and the blood covering his body was washed away.

Now that that was in order, what was he to do with his regained freedom? He could do anything-- go anywhere he pleased; but first, there was something he needed to return.

~

The Winchester brothers cruised down another endless highway, the car, which was usually either filled with the melodies of Dean's cassette tapes or the commotion of another argument between them, was unnaturally silent. Sam was fixated on John's journal, flipping through the pages like a mad man for any clue as to who that insanely powerful demon could be, while Dean had both hands on the wheel, clenching it so tight it almost bent under his fury. Both were focused on putting as many miles between them and the demon as they could before they had to stop for food or gas. Whichever came first. It had been a long night.

_Dad was long gone, so they should follow his example_ , Sam though bitterly. He was about to call Bobby to ask for some help, when he heard a thump coming from the back seat. Swinging his head around, he searched for the cause, eyes scanning every millimetre of the visible area. At first, he was convinced he was hearing things, when he spotted the sleek silver barrel of... The Colt? Dumbfounded, he had to make sure he wisent seeing things before getting both of their hopes up. Could he simply be imagining this? No, the Colt was really there, he was sure. It was like yesterday had never happened.

He lightly punched his brothers shoulder, but couldn't keep the excitement from his voice.

"D-Dean, the Colt! It's back!"

"What?"

"Get off at the next exit."

"Huh? Why-"

"Just do it!"

~

"He's screwing with us." Dean said, convinced in his assumptions as he warily handled the weapon. Upon Sam's heed, they had taken the nearest exit and drove until they found a hotel to stay in for the night, though they had yet to get out of the car and actually rent a room.

"We don't know that, what if-"

"What if what, Sam?" Dean interrupted, "Two bullets are missing. What business does a demon have with the Colt? Besides, now that's two less chances we have to kill Azazel."

"We have it back though." Sam tried to stay positive, but Dean remained unswayed.

"But why? Why return it if he knows it's dangerous to his kind?" Dean argued, confusion written all over his face. Sam was just as stumped. That was the million-dollar question. Why did the demon take it if he planned to return it? Why take it in the first place? What was his motive? Frustrated, he inspected the back seat once more, hoping to find anything that would bring some much needed clarification. Nothing. He was about to give it up, when something white and small on the ground caught his eye. It looked like a folded piece of paper that had definitely not been there before. Stretching out his arm, Sam reached back to grab it, just able to pinch it between his middle and index finger.

"What's that?" Dean asked him, but Sam had no idea.

"Don't know." He replied as he neatly unfolded the creased paper. Surprised to find it was a note written in delicate calligraphy. He had a sinking feeling he knew who sent it. Dean leaned in closer to read it with him.

 

_Dear Sam, Dean,_

_I wish to once again thank you for the use of the Colt, even if it was under rather uncivilized circumstances. But rest assured, whether you choose to believe it or not, a great annoyance has been taken care of due to your charitable decision._

_So, I return the Colt in an act of goodwill. You will most definitely need it for the coming weeks._

_As for my whereabouts, fear not, you will not be hearing from me again. As fascinating as you two are, I feel I have earned some much needed downtime._

_Lastly, be warned, Azazel will not go down easily, so do not miss._

_I look forward to hearing great things about you, Sam._

_Sincerely,_

_Sebastian Michaelis._

 

Sam had to read it over a few times before he was able to meet his brothers eyes, the Winchesters shared an anxious look amongst themselves, not knowing what to make of the strange letter. They had had enough for today though, and decided to add it to the list of things to worry about tomorrow as they climbed out of the Impala, and headed towards an uncertain future.


End file.
